


power distribution

by fungisailor



Category: Naruto
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fungisailor/pseuds/fungisailor
Summary: an obligatory hokage's desk smut
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 6
Kudos: 160





	power distribution

**Author's Note:**

> look thats literally just smut on hokage's desk, there is nothing more to it. oh also it's my first fic in ages and the very first one in english. i hope you enjoy it anyway

Hashirama reclined in his seat, looking up at Madara with a slight smile on his face. The man was boxed in between the desk and Hashirama’s knees, his expression tense. Yet, he did not make a move to avoid this situation at any particular moment.

“What were these terms, again?” His hands touched the thighs right above the knees and moved up unhurriedly. The prolonged eye contact soon turned into an unspoken dare of who would break it first. Madara gripped the edge of the desk behind him, his knuckles turning white from the force of it.

“They have an alliance. They will accept the- the offer if we welcome the other clan as well,” he swallowed. “Hashirama, the door isn’t locked.”

Hashirama glanced down at the sash for a second as Madara huffed. “Who cares?” his gaze moved back up as his fingers started unraveling the knot.

“I do.”

“I don’t,” and now the traces of a smile were gone from Hashirama’s face. Madara let out a frustrated breath, knowing it was pointless to argue with the man now. His mantle fell open, free from the sash, exposing a toned scarred torso.

“So, what’s the problem with that alliance?” returning to the topic, Hashirama leaned forward and touched the abdomen with his lips, lingering there. “That would be one more clan to the village,” his hands were working on the bindings of Uchiha’s pants now.

“We don’t have enough resources for one more clan now,” Madara tilted his head, a hand coming up to thread through the brown hair at the other’s nape. He pulled the hair lightly, prompting a smile and a huff of hot breath that was almost tickling.

“We’ll make do,” the pants were pulled down the strong thighs, followed by underwear. The lips slid lower to the navel. Madara stepped out of the cloth pooling on the floor now and his leg was hooked up to bend over the other’s shoulder. Unbalanced, he had to lean his backside on the desk fully.

Hashirama reached his hand to the half-hard member and pulled it up, pining it between his palm and the man’s lower abdomen, stroking leisurely.

“It’s not that easy and you know it,” Madara spat, huffing, but it was mostly out of habit at this point. He knew by now that if Hashirama decided to make something work, he would succeed. People awed at his unmatched – almost – strength on the battlefield, nearly worshipped him, but it was far from being his only power. Madara pulled the hair in his grasp once again for good measure.

Hashirama looked up at that, a mischievous glint in his smiling eyes now. Madara frowned at him and then sighed with resignation.

Hashirama squeezed the thigh he’s been holding up and pulled it to the side, making Madara open up more for him. A palm on his hardening member was replaced with a tongue to the underside of it, making its way up to the tip.

Madara exhaled at the sensation and reclined back on his elbow, letting his head fall to his shoulder. His other hand was still entangled in Hashirama’s hair, scratching the nape lightly as the man teased him with slow drags of his tongue. Madara looked at the hand that was previously occupied with his member and now disappeared under the desk. Hashirama was stroking himself through his robes now while he pleasured Madara. As the shaft under Hashirama’s tongue hardened enough to satisfy him, he turned to lean his lips on the inside of Madara’s thigh, trailing wet kisses and nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

Madara twitched at the sound of footsteps down the hall and turned his head to the door instinctively. His heartbeat spiked, his mind helpfully provided him with an image: the Uchiha patriarch, laying exposed on the Hokage’s desk, being pleasured by the Hokage himself. What a sight. He let out a sudden gasp as he felt lips enclosing the head of his shaft, sucking on it. He glared down at that; Hashirama seemed absolutely unapologetic, radiating self-satisfaction.

Madara bit the inside of his cheek and wondered why he let himself be manipulated into this situation. Another thing people did not realize was how much power Hashirama held over him – or so Madara had hoped. He pushed down on the man’s head and got slapped on his thigh for that.

“Impatient,” Hashirama grinned up at him and stroked the thigh where he slapped it moments ago, withdrawing. He leaned his head on the side of Madara’s knee and breathed out noisily, squeezing his own member through the layers of cloth.

“And whose fault is that?” he glowered, his eyes lingering on the pleased expression on Hashirama’s face.

Hashirama hummed. “Fault?” a glance in the other’s direction. “Are you implying you’re not enjoying yourself?” and a sly smile.

Madara was weak. His hand fell from the brown hair and now he lay on the desk supported by both elbows; the foot anchoring him to the floor lifted to rest on the armrest of Hokage’s chair. He closed his eyes and breathed out. “Fine. Let’s play by your rules.” He hated the following quiet laughter as much as he loved it. They both knew it was always like that, though Hashirama gave him the benefit of the doubt at times.

Hashirama left another kiss on the inside of the man’s thigh as his hand lifted from his member to Madara’s groin. He squeezed the meaty head and turned his hand, smearing the precome over his palm and then slid down the shaft to fondle his testicles. Hashirama watched the raise and fall of a muscular chest in his line of sight pick up slightly. The man on his desk was flushed, lips glistening with spit from how regularly he licked them. The hand on Madara’s shaft stroked it unhurriedly, squeezing it from time to time the way Hashirama knew he liked. Madara bit his lower lip and let it slip through his teeth deliberately, drawing blood under the skin and making it look swollen and red. Hashirama licked his own lips at that small display. He smiled and leaned closer, spitting on the base of Madara’s member. His thumb circled over it and then slid down between the fleshy buttocks, smearing the spit over the pucker of muscle around his entrance. As it hooked inside Madara exhaled noisily and let his head fall back, exposing his neck in a trustful gesture.

Hashirama leaned forward again to flatten his tongue over the shaft as he slowly fucked the man with his thumb, taking immense pleasure in the sounds of quivering breathing the other let out. He took the member in his mouth fully and started bobbing his head on it. The thigh in his hand twitched a couple of times and he left it hooked over his shoulder as he let his hand fall to the bulge in his pants once more and started stroking himself.

Hashirama let the erection slip out from his mouth and looked down at the entrance, pulling the muscle aside with his thumb, stretching it. It twitched predictably. His hand made its way up to the member, now wet with precome and spit, and stroked it a few times, smearing the fluids all over his palm.

“Will you… stop being a tease already,” Madara’s voice was lower now. He lifted his head again to glare but it didn’t have the intended effect in his disheveled state, looking down his pecks with a sheen of sweat over them.

Hashirama marveled at the sight before him and the words left his mind. Two moist fingers reached Madara’s entrance and pushed in, forcing a quiet groan out of his throat. Hashirama took the man’s erection and started pumping it as he fucked Madara with his fingers, unable to tear his gaze away from the other’s face.

Madara couldn’t restrain another moan an octave higher than usual when the fingers inside of him teased the bundle of nerves. He covered his mouth with his hand, falling back on the desk without a care about the documents under him. Hashirama got up from his seat, making the leg on his shoulder stretch up as he went, and Madara trembled, panting. Hashirama picked up the pace, and as he leaned down to leave a kiss on an exposed chest, Madara spilled onto his stomach, tensing and shivering from pleasure.

Hashirama stroked the man through his orgasm and then leaned over him, resting a hand beside the other’s waist on the desk as his other hand reached into his own pants to relieve himself as well. Hashirama pulled out his erection and squeezed, eyes roving over Madara. He started pumping, noting every small detail in front of him. Perked nipples on a flushed sculpted chest that was heaving from exertion, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of heavy breathing. Semen glistening on the relief of muscles and dips of scars in uneven pattern of drops and threads. A slight trembling of an arm, the hand still covering the mouth, an angry red dusting the cheeks above it. The mane of pitch-black hair spilling all over the desk but not covering the handsome face for once. Madara opened his unfocused eyes and turned to look up at Hashirama, and _oh_ , Hashirama was _close._

Fingers reached the hand on his cock and joined the rhythm at the same time Hashirama was tugged by his hair down into a gentle kiss. He spilled on the exposed torso moments later, letting Madara swallow his moan.

Hashirama fell back into his chair, catching his breath. He looked at the man before him still laying on his desk and placed his hand on a naked thigh, caressing it absentmindedly.

“The lunch is probably over,” Madara mumbled, pulling himself up onto his elbows. He looked at Hashirama’s dreamy smile and sighed. Madara placed a foot on the other’s shoulder and pushed, making the chair balance on its two back legs.

“Hey, I’ll fall down like that.”

“Completely deserved.”

Hashirama pouted, and Madara couldn’t hold back a gentle smile this time.


End file.
